Moto Mama
by naturally morbid
Summary: Have you ever wanted to meet your celeb crush so bad? Dreamed about what sort of person they were? And what all you would spend the day doing? What if Rodrick met a girl from the Moto Mama magazine?


Moto Mama

Part One

**Author's Note: **Hope this hasn't been done before. Based more on the movie, or at least the 'Moto Mama' magazine that Rodrick gets in trouble for in the first one. Have you ever wanted to meet your celeb crush so bad? Dreamed about what sort of person they were? And what all you would spend the day doing?

My take on this type of situation. Not quite the girl on the cover of the magazine from the movie, but one similar.

Hope none of the DOAWK characters are OOC.

Rated T: For scenes of smoking. Sometimes rude humor. And other teen-related objects including the normal thoughts of teenage boys.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Rodrick or any of the other DOAWK characters. I do own Dahlia Destruction, as far as I know.

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_What if Rodrick met a girl from the Moto Mama magazine?_

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"Come on Rodrick! Dude, I've got these great tickets to that motorcycle show they're having this weekend," Bill Walter was trying to convince his young and underage friend. The problem lay not in going, but in figuring out how to slip through his punishment for …whatever it was he had done last. He couldn't remember now.

"Alright," he consented, "I just have to tell my parents something."

"You're like the king of lying man, make something up. Tell them you have…" Bill stopped for lack of brain activity.

"A church function," Rodrick decided. He was holding one of the tickets in his hand, starting at the list special guests for the Moto Mama event. In the small print, listed next to a handful of male names was Dahlia Destruction, one of his favorite magazine models. "Parents are always falling for those."

He could picture her now, with her long dark hair sometimes streaked with party colors, her sultry green eyes, full lips. The way the skimpy clothing of her shadowy and lacy underwear clung to her every curve, the way that it contrasted with the solid colors of her extensive tattoos.

When he finally made money as a rock star, he planned to have her tattooed on his left bicep to flex at will. None of the other models could quite capture that slinky but innocent look she seemed to be wearing while she straddled a giant motorcycle.

Rodrick often traded lunch and equipment for other magazine features from her. So what if Greg had cost him one magazine from another model? He had a stack hidden in the closet. Things like tattoo magazines, cars, makeup and music advertisements.

She wasn't too much older than him. He knew her whole life story, how she left home after quitting high school at sixteen and traveled to L.A., where she started working her way up as a model.

From there, she enjoyed a whirlwind of fame for her body art and pin-up worthy body. Many times, he had traced her line art as well as every curve, wondering how soft she felt.

Now she was coming to a nearby city and he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to see her in the flesh.

After Bill had left, Rodrick made a sad attempt to make himself presentable, to convince his parents he was spending one night away for a "church function." He knew parents were always eating things like that up. He just hoped they would be so thrilled by his apparent interest in religion and not to check too hard into the function.

His father was skeptical during dinner, that Rodrick wanted to spend one night away from home to attend a function willingly, but his mother was so thrilled her enthusiasm overruled everything else. Later, as Rodrick climbed the stairs smirking all the while at his cleverness, Greg confronted him.

"Since when do you like church?"

"Since…always, now get out of my way butt-brain, I have things to do." Greg stood his ground in front of the stairwell.

"You're up to something," Greg insisted.

Rodrick scoffed, moving his brother aside. Greg was a minor distraction. All Rodrick was concerned with was whether he would get to be up close and personal with Dahlia Destruction or not. As he lay on his bed that night, he played several scenarios out by hand, each better than the next.

When the day finally arrived, Rodrick and his band were all standing in the doorway of the convention center, feeling anxious. Surrounding them were a thousand new sights, sounds, and smells.

"Boys, you are about to become men," Bill laughed as they split up and headed off. Rodrick ended up with Chris the Bass Player. But even Chris disappeared after a while.

Rodrick wasn't interested in the motorcycles today. He only wanted to find Dahlia.

In the end, he somehow found himself outside, leaning against the concrete side of the building for some fresh air. All the grease, body odor of passing bikers, and leather was taking a toll on his brain. Just as he was turning to head back inside, he saw someone leaned against the wall just down from him.

From the silhouette, it was obviously a girl, smaller than Rodrick. She was wearing a bright green hooded sweatshirt over a pair of tiny black surf shorts, her tattooed legs bare. She was idly kicking at a rock with one worn flip-flop, one hand tucked in the pocket of her jacket, the other holding a cigarette.

"Aren't you a little young to be smoking?" he smirked, moving closer to her.

"Aren't you a little young to be at a convention by yourself?" she returned without missing a beat. Rodrick felt his chest tighten as he realized to just whom he was speaking. There, underdressed, was none other than Dahlia Destruction.

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End file.
